Dreams of Extinction
by agentpippin
Summary: What happens when you're the last of your species? Written pre-quest, not a Mary-Sue. Be warned: this was written on caffeine. I'll leave you with that. ***CHAP. 2 UP***
1. Social Studies

Now, I desperately need reviews on this one, cause it's gonna be a novel-length 'THING': Totally   
Hopeless and In Need of Guts. Meaning I need reviews. Guts is my word for reviews. Actually, I just   
needed something that started with 'g'. If anybody has any other suggestions, they can include them   
in their REVIEW. Hint, hint.   
Smoochies to Julie for Rosemary. ;)  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
It was incredibly hot in the classroom, and Marigold had removed her hooded sweatshirt and partially   
unbuttoned her blouse. It didn't have any effect on the general 35 degree feeling that was making   
her sleepy. She made herself sit up straight and take notes to avoid dozing off.  
Mr. Brown's method of teaching was not helping her drowsiness. The teacher's voice droned on and on,   
not once changing, the same tone and inflections that she had encountered upon entering the high   
school. Eight months later, Marigold still entered the classroom to see him sitting at his desk,   
arranging his notes or grading students' papers. He would get up and proceed to the front blackboard   
once the entire class was seated, and start reciting off his notes. It was left up to the students   
to take down what they believed would be relevant or helpful for the class. Marigold had heard from   
former students that his teaching style had not varied in the 26 years he had been teaching.  
"Miss Brooks." His voice had taken on a previously unheard edge, and Marigold sat up immediately.   
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blond head turn and look at her. Marigold glanced at the   
pretty face watching her, and raised an eyebrow. The blond Rochelle shrugged slightly and Marigold   
turned her attention back to the teacher, who was standing with hands on hips at the front of the   
room.   
"Now that I have your attention, Miss Brooks, I don't suppose you could tell me what we were   
discussing?" he asked dryly.  
Marigold realized with a start that the entire class was watching her. She blushed and looked down   
at her notes, brushing a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. "Louisbourg Fortress," she said   
tentatively. The last notes she had taken were "founded in 1714", but she wasn't sure if the topic   
had shifted since then.  
"Yes, and would you happen to know who built this grand fortress?"   
Marigold wondered when Social Studies had become Interrogation Studies. "The French colonists," she   
said, a little louder.  
Mr. Brown's expression did not change. "That's right. Now, Louisbourg housed about 1500 to 3000   
people. These people varied in social class, income and background..."  
Marigold sank back into a half-asleep state as the teacher's voice began its litany once more. She   
glanced at the clock and was dismayed to find half an hour still left in the class. "Come ON," she   
thought tiredly. Social Studies was her last class before lunch, and her stomach was starting to   
growl in protest. She decided to try and alleviate her boredom with some conversation.   
Marigold shuffled her papers around, discreetly ripping off the corner of a blank page as she did   
so. She scrawled a lazy "I'm bored" with her pencil and folded the fragment in half.   
"Rochelle," she whispered, just loud enough so Mr. Brown could hear what she was saying. "Can I   
borrow your pencil sharpener?"   
Her friend, sitting directly to the left of her, frowned, but raised her eyebrows and reached for   
her supply bag when Marigold held up the note. She tossed it to Marigold, earning a stern look from   
the teacher. "Miss Minjonet, if you wish to dispense supplies, please do not throw them," he   
reprimanded, then went right back to his teaching. Rochelle muttered something under her breath and   
waited for Marigold to finish sharpening her pencil. Marigold did so with exaggerated movements,   
then took the lid off and slipped the note inside. She slid it back along the floor to Rochelle, who  
picked it up and took out the note. Her eyes flicked back to Marigold and she shrugged. "Me too,"   
she mouthed, and they both looked up at the clock. 27 minutes left. "DAMN it, I'm hungry," Marigold   
thought, as Rochelle scribbled a reply on the small piece of paper.   
By the time there were five minutes left in the class, their conversation had taken up 4 scraps of   
paper. It went like this:  
I'm bored.  
Me too.  
And hungry.  
Me too.  
And tired.  
Me too.  
Did I mention I'm bored?  
Yes.  
And hot.  
I'm way hotter than you are.  
No you're not.  
Am so.  
Are not.  
Am so.  
Are not.  
Am so.  
Are not.  
Am so.  
Are not.  
Am so.  
Fine.  
Ha!  
Shut up.  
Make me.  
As Mari picked up her pencil to give Rochelle another piece of her mind, the classroom door swung   
open. She looked up from the paper and automatically slipped it under her notes as someone entered.   
A boy who looked to be about her age peered around the door. A toss of light brown curls shaded   
a pair of eyes that swiftly surveyed the room before resting on Mr. Brown, looking irritated that   
his stream of facts had been interrupted. "This Grade 10 Social?" he asked with a slight accent that   
Mari couldn't immediately identify.   
"Yes," said Mr. Brown, scrutinising the boy.  
"Marigold Brooks here?" he asked.  
Marigold started. "Yeah," she said. The boy looked around and spotted her. She frowned as he   
hesitated. What did he want?  
"You're s'posed to come to the office," he said finally.   
Marigold exchanged blank looks with Rochelle. Her friend raised her hands in a don't-look-at-me   
gesture. Marigold turned back to the boy, who was shifting from foot to foot as though impatient.   
"Do I have to bring my stuff?" she asked stubbornly, wanting an explanation.   
"Yeah," the boy said. Marigold shrugged. "Okay," she told him. "I'll just be a minute." The other   
students looked on with mild interest as she shuffled papers into a relatively neat pile and stuffed  
them in her binder. Rochelle punched her lightly on the arm as she got up to leave, and Marigold   
grinned down at her. "See ya," she muttered.   
Various choruses of "Bye, Mari," rippled through the room. "See you, Marigold!" Ernest, a skinny boy   
with untidy hair and an uneven-toothed smile, piped up after her. Marigold inwardly sighed. Ernest   
had followed her around since she'd come to high school, asking her to dances and school functions.   
He had insisted on calling her Marigold, instead of Mari as most people did. Well, actually, as   
everybody else did. Marigold had found it intensely annoying at first, but had learned to tune it   
out much the same way she tuned out Mr. Brown.   
She reflected on that first day she'd entered the high school. She had always known that she was   
pretty, but it made her uncomfortable to have the male students drop everything and watch her as   
she walked down the hall. Several of the most popular boys had tried to ask her on dates, but she   
had declined them all, puzzling them as much as the popular girls. The girls would probably have  
died to be in Marigold's place, but once the boys realized Marigold was not going to tolerate their   
company, they turned their attentions elsewhere. So much the better for them and their little   
girlfriends, Marigold had thought at the time.  
"Got your stuff?"  
Marigold came out of her memories with a jolt. "Uh... yeah," she muttered to the boy, who seemed   
singularly disinterested in her reminiscence. In fact, he seemed disinterested, period. He didn't   
blush or stammer when he talked to her, and he looked her straight in the eye. His sentences were   
short and clipped. As if I'm wasting his time, she thought irritably. The boy annoyed her in a   
manner she couldn't seem to articulate. She dismissed the thought and hoisted her bag onto her   
shoulder, starting for the school office. Her odd companion fell into step beside her.   
"Been here long?" he asked her as they walked. Like it's any of your business, Marigold growled   
inwardly, but held her temper and replied as coolly as she could. "Just the one year."  
"Not me," he said quietly. Marigold glanced sharply over at him. He looked up at her, then back at   
his shoes. "Got transferred here in April."  
Scottish, Marigold thought suddenly. His accent is Scottish. "From where?" she asked. "Scotland?"   
He laughed under his breath. "I haven't lived in Scotland for twelve years."   
Marigold felt herself blushing. So go ahead, make a fool of me, she thought savagely. I don't need   
your smirking little face here, I know my own way to the office.  
"Did they say what they wanted me for?" she asked, trying not to show her annoyance. He looked up   
at her again. "Actually, they did," he told her.  
"And?"   
"Well, here we are - I guess you'll find out now, won't you," he said, indicating a door to their   
left.   
Marigold shrugged and reached for the doorknob.   
"Thanks," she said shortly.  
"I've got a name, you know," he said absently, a slight smile quirking his mouth.   
"Which is?"   
"Stanley," he told her. She glanced up at him. Green eyes laughed silently beneath the brown curls,   
crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Stanley Keagan."  
"Well, if I ever get lost on the way to the office, Stanley Keagan, I'll know who to call," she   
said. She had meant for it to be a little more scathing than it actually sounded, and Stanley raised  
an eyebrow.   
"Just call me Stan," he told her. Marigold felt as though he was making fun of her, but his grin   
was less than sarcastic, and she gave a small smile.   
"Okay," she said, turning back to the door. "Thanks. Oh-" she turned back as a thought occurred to   
her. "You can call me Mari."  
"Sure. Later," he said, watching as she entered the office.   
He stayed as the door clicked shut. A few seconds passed. Stan listened as he heard a female voice   
speaking quickly, and then heard Marigold's voice yell something. He frowned and pressed his ear to   
the door.  
"New Zealand?!" Marigold - Mari - was yelling. "Are you iserious/i?!"  
The female voice, a little deeper than Marigold's alto, laughed. "Yeah, but calm down before you   
have a seizure, okay? Otherwise you won't GET your vacation."  
"Sure thing! Hang on, I have to get my bag and stuff!" Marigold said excitedly. She opened the door   
and ran straight into Stan.   
"Hey!" Stan yelped, stumbling backwards. Marigold caught his wrist and yanked him back to his feet.   
"Sorry," she said breathlessly. "I gotta go!"   
Stan followed her to her locker, watching as she stuffed papers and binders into her backpack. "What  
the hell happened in there?"   
Marigold glanced up at him, still packing. Her deep brown eyes glowed. "I'm off on vacation!   
My sister Rosemary-" she indicated the tall, smiling girl, older than Marigold, with long, straight   
dark hair, that had followed the two - "and I are going on our own! To New Zealand!"   
Stan grinned. "You a Lord of the Rings fan, by any chance?"  
Marigold stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah!"   
"Me too," he told her. Marigold practially shook with energy, loose, dark curls falling over her   
eyes. She brushed them away impatiently.   
"Be gone long?" Stan ventured.   
"Two months," Marigold answered happily.   
"Cool," Stan answered. "Well... send me a postcard or something, okay?" Marigold looked surprised,   
but fished around in her locker for writing materials. "Sure thing," she told him, giving him a   
scrap of paper and a purple pen. Stan took them and scribbled an address and e-mail, folded it in   
half and gave it back to Marigold. She grinned and stuffed it in her pocket. "Later!" she called   
over her shoulder as she jogged back to her sister.   
Stan leaned against the lockers and watched Marigold leave, talking animatedly with her sister. He   
wondered idly how old Rosemary was. Marigold was obviously his age, as demonstrated by her rather   
tight shirt and stretch jeans. Stan watched them turn the corner and then started back towards his   
own classroom. Whew, he thought. Interesting.  
  
A pair of blue-grey eyes watched him from the shadows, following his trail. They blinked once and   
then disappeared.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
Mwahaha, the insanity begins! Evil evil I am, ending a prologue like that. Well, you'll just have   
to wait... and I promise it's LotR, it just doesn't really seem like it, yet. I'll write more, as   
long as I have your promises to not sneak into my bedroom and kill me in my sleep for introducing   
a character like that. Promise? Okay, goody. 


	2. NSync and Dairy Queen

Okay, I have a couple of thanks to hand out here before I begin:  
  
HIMLAI- for being such an awesome person and beta and all those other nice things, and getting to my   
story right after Thanksgiving, too! (Right after Thanksgiving, I'm usually vegging on the couch.)  
CATHY- for Draco Clone!  
FROCKERS- for the captivating storyline bit. I'm not much one for plots, but this was a special   
plot bunny - his name is Foo-Foo! And for getting to Precious Moments - how I love you now. 3  
ARABELLA THORNE- why, thank you! *feels special... ego hyperinflates* They're actually in June...   
that's why. :)  
TEARS OF STARDUST- well, I can't tell you THAT, now can I? *is evil and secretive, but decides to   
put him in there somewhere...*  
JULIE- for Rosemary, as always. ;)  
  
Disclaimer: Meep. See last chapter.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
Marigold dropped her bag on the floor and threw her jacket over the railing, stepping over her cat.  
"Hello, Pepper," she cooed, kneeling to scoop up the black-and-white kitten. "How's my favorite   
boy?"  
  
Pepper mewled pitifully. "Well, you may only be 9 weeks old, but you sure can tell us when you're   
hungry, can't you? Which is pretty much all the time, isn't it." She scratched his ears and set him   
down in front of his food and water bowls. "Go on," she told him, nudging him closer to the bowls.   
"That's all you're getting today, you know that."  
  
Pepper looked up at her with such a pathetic expression that Marigold couldn't help herself.   
"Well... just this once, okay?" she told him, smiling. Pepper squeaked happily as she poured a   
little more dry cat food into his bowl. Marigold stood back and watched the kitten dig in. She   
had owned several EHKs - Eternally Hungry Kitties - before, but none so voracious as Pepper.   
  
"Mari, feed the cat!" Rosemary yelled from her room. "I just did," Marigold called back. She   
scratched Pepper's ears again and stood up, picking up her bag.   
  
She took the stairs two a time to her bedroom. Marigold and Rosemary slept upstairs, and their   
parents had a room in the basement. Marigold personally couldn't stand sleeping in the basement -   
it was entirely too cold, even though they'd had it renovated three years ago, adding carpet and   
sprucing the place up in general.   
  
Marigold knocked on Rosemary's door. "Yeah?" came the reply. Marigold cracked open the door a   
little. "You packed?"  
  
"Yep," Rosemary said. "Come in if you want," she added, stuffing a jacket into her backpack.   
Marigold came inside and leaned on the wall. "What're you bringing?"  
  
Rosemary glanced up at her and continued throwing things into her bag. "CDs, books, mags... I dunno,  
random stuff," she shrugged.   
  
"What CDs?" Marigold asked, surveying her sister's room.  
  
"Uh, Avril Lavigne, Dave Matthews Band, Goo Goo Dolls, and... Jimmy Eat World," Rosemary said,   
checking her CDs.   
  
"Okay," said Marigold absently. My sister is insane, she thought amusedly as she looked around the  
room. Several Ricky Martin posters graced the walls, and Marigold thought she saw an N-Sync magazine  
article tacked onto the bulletin board. She hoped she was wrong.  
  
"You still have these up?" Marigold grinned. She went over to the nearest poster and poked it.   
"These are like three years old."   
  
Rosemary bristled. "Hey, at least I don't have Lord of the Rings posters as my wallpaper," she   
retorted.  
  
Marigold kept grinning. "At least Lord of the Rings is the coolest movie ever. Not to mention my   
hobbit boys."  
  
Rosemary glared. "Shut up, twerp. Go pack," she ordered her younger sister.  
  
"Whatever you say, Miss Martin," Marigold smirked. She dodged the sock Rosemary threw at her and   
slipped out laughing.   
  
Completely insane, Marigold thought as she lay back on her bed. She stared up at the various Lord of  
the Rings cutouts and magazine pictures, trying to make a mental list of what she'd need. She sighed  
and got up, searching for a notebook or a piece of paper. She found an old day planner and a pen   
and sat back on her bed. She started scribbling down things as they came to her.   
  
She was deep in concentration when the phone rang. She looked up, startled. "Rosemary?"  
  
"What?" her sister yelled.   
  
"Do you have the phone?"  
  
"One sec!" There was muffled noise in the other room. Marigold got up to listen, pressing her ear   
against the wall.  
  
"Hello?" Rosemary said. There was a brief pause, then "Hang on, I'll go get her."  
  
Marigold was in her sister's room before Rosemary even paused to take a breath. "Mari-" she started   
to yell, then realized Marigold was standing in front of her. "Uh... okay... phone," she said,   
extending the phone to her sister. Marigold gave a mock bow and took the phone. Rosemary held up   
another sock, and Marigold hurried out of the room.  
  
"Hello?" she said once outside.   
  
"Hi... Mari?" the voice on the other line asked.  
  
"Yeah," Marigold said, curious.  
  
"Hi, it's Stan," the voice said. Immediately, his voice and her earlier encounter with the boy   
clicked. "Hey!" she enthused. "What's up? How'd you get my number?"   
  
"Talked to your friend Rochelle," he told her. "She's going on vacation too, you know?"  
  
"No, actually I didn't," Marigold said slowly. "Where to?"  
  
"New Zealand, same as you," Stan said. Marigold could just see the brown-haired boy grinning on the   
other end.   
  
"What??" Marigold exclaimed. "Why didn't she tell me?"  
  
"Dunno," Stan said. "Hey listen, you couldn't do me a favor, could you? Well, two favors, actually,"  
he amended. Marigold frowned. "Sure... what is it?" she asked, puzzled.  
  
"Okay, well first of all, tell Rochelle to shut up about Legolas," Stan said. Marigold laughed.   
"I try, Stan, I try."   
  
"Well, scratch that then, can I come to New Zealand with you guys?" Stan asked.  
  
WHAT? Marigold opened her mouth and shut it again several times. "What do you mean, 'come to New   
Zealand with us'?" she finally asked, incredulous. "Our flight leaves in five hours, and it's not   
like plane tickets come real cheap, specially not this late."  
  
Stan paused. "I've got a ticket and everything, I just wanted to know if I could with you. You know,  
I'm going anyways, so I might as well go with somebody I know," he said hesitantly.  
  
Marigold blushed, and was rather glad Stan couldn't see her. "Oh, well in that case sure," she   
told him quickly. "I mean, if you're already going, then why not," she added.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's what I thought," Stan agreed.  
  
"Well. Okay, sure," Marigold said after a second.   
  
"Okay. See you there," Stan said.   
  
"Okay. Bye," Marigold said, and hung up. Okay, that was weird, she thought, and shook her head. Okay,   
focus, she told herself firmly. Need to get packed now.  
  
xXx  
  
The airport was surprisingly cool for a June midday. Marigold stood on tiptoe and searched the crowd   
for a certain curly head. Rochelle was sprawled on a bench, long legs stretching out from her ragged   
cutoffs, long hair tied back.   
  
Rosemary was standing in the Dairy Queen lineup for 'hot eats and cool treats', or so she had said   
laughingly as she walked off. She didn't particularly look like she was in a laughing mood now. Marigold   
had to grin at her sister, looking rather grouchy, slowly inching her way forwards in the lineup.   
  
"Boo," said a familiar voice behind her.  
  
Marigold didn't turn around. "Whaddyawant?"  
  
"You're no fun," sighed Stan, dropping onto the bench beside Rochelle and kicking his suitcase under it.   
He attempted to shove a couple locks of hair out of his eyes, but gave up. "Damn hot out there," he said   
to no one in particular.   
  
"Mmhmm," mumbled Rochelle, eyes on the floor.   
  
Marigold glanced over. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Counting tiles," Rochelle muttered.   
  
Marigold shot her a look. Oblivious, Rochelle continued her silent tally. Marigold raised her eyebrows   
at her friend. "Okay. You do that."  
  
"I am," Rochelle mumbled again.   
  
"Yes, you are," Stan said.  
  
"Mhmm." Rochelle hadn't once looked up during the exchange.   
  
Marigold shook her head slightly and continued observing Rosemary's progress. This will more than   
likely be the most boring flight I've ever been on, she mused. At least there's something fun waiting   
at the end of it.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
So it wasn't the greatest of chapters. There'll be more, I promise! I do! I looove you all! (woah...  
where'd that come from??) 


End file.
